The swaying of the hammock reminds me of a mother rocking her baby, and once again, I can feel the sting of tears. Has it been three whole weeks since my baby was born lifeless? The wind is picking up, but it brings no relief from the suffocating heat. The rush of warm air only leaves me hungry for the heat wave to break.

Let it hurt. Stop fighting the pain. I always prided myself in being strong, never crying. But, I’ve never hurt so wholly before. I feel the grief tighten in my stomach, a quivering in my chest, an ache in my throat. The intensity of emotion frightens me as it rises from within and covers me completely.

The storm of tears ends as suddenly as it had begun. There is a strange sense of peace that I am surprised to find here at this place of suffering. I feel God’s love surrounding me like flowing water.

Slowly, I become deeply aware of my surroundings. All of my senses are awakened to a hum that seems to grow in depth. My gasping breath slows as I concentrate on the sound. Red flickers like static under my closed lids, and my whole body seems to be trembling with the sound.

On the surface, the harsh grating of a lawn mower seems to overpower everything else, but, there is more. My senses lift me into the treetops and I can hear the leaves trembling rapidly. The heat hasn’t subsided, but the sound cools me and I am awakened to another layer of the hum. I can hear the buzz of a bee as it flies from flower to flower, and then I can hear another… and another.

My pain is like the hum. There are so many layers to this pain. At times it is so consuming that I can’t hear or see anything but my pain. It shakes me. It grabs all of my attention and leaves me weak and drained of all other emotions. At other times, I am visiting and laughing, but suddenly it seems so strange to laugh and I can hear the pain again. It’s just below the surface.

I let my mind draw out the hum of the bees again. I settle here. The hum is always about me, yet I am often unaware of it. It is a small, and yet significant part of the tapestry of sounds that embrace me. I will always carry this pain. It will forever change me. Strangely, this thought is comforting. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to “move on.” Even the thought of those words makes my heart thump sickeningly. For me, it is synonymous with “moving away” … from my baby, of leaving her behind. I will carry her memory. I will carry my pain and let it change me, but I will not carry it alone.

Sweet Jesus, You are with me! Carry me in my sorrow and fill my life with a purpose bigger than myself. Let this sorrow be a catalyst for change that begins in my own life and pours out into the lives of others. Lord Jesus, love through me.

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Incredible story. May I presume it is true? What a deeply personal subject to share, but you did it so well. Some things are never forgotten but thank God the pain is cover with a Holy Balm that only our Father in Heaven can provide.

Wow what a powerful story. I thought for sure it was based on a true story because you captured her emotions so fully. As a former maternity nurse, OB was usually the happiest place in the hospital, but when it was sad, everyone there felt the pain. You captured that pain and then offered a glimmer of hope that some day, the pain might lessen some. Good job.

You captured the emotions of a grieving mother or really anyone experiencing a deep grief. It can be a constant companion in life, although not always overwhelming and debilitating as God does give comfort in time. Congratulations on your superb first entry.